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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889415">Dual-Wielding Tenseiga and Tessaiga is Overkill! It’s Unfair! I’m Putting Down My Controller!</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Game_Changer/pseuds/Game_Changer'>Game_Changer</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Gintama</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Corporate Power Dynamics, Evolving Modes of Expressing Sentiments, Humor, M/M, Stupid Blackmail, Tortoise B-Plot, Transmogrification</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 21:35:10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>13,214</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26889415</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Game_Changer/pseuds/Game_Changer</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gintoki becomes the despicable king of a disgusting empire.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Hijikata Toshirou/Sakata Gintoki</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>44</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Gintoki's Birthday Bash 2020</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Dual-Wielding Tenseiga and Tessaiga is Overkill! It’s Unfair! I’m Putting Down My Controller!</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>A bunch of writers and artists have come together to produce works for Gintoki’s Birthday Bash event. These pieces all focus on one of the most popular, age-old Gintama fandom traditions: chucking sugar at piles of mayonnaise and stabbing it with some plot. The AO3 collection <a href="https://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/ginbdaybash2020">Gintoki’s Birthday Bash 2020</a> contains all the produced content, so be sure to explore the goodies in there if you haven’t already. </p>
<p>The talented <a href="https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars1015">luckystars1015</a> was kind enough to produce the title artwork for this particular story. If you can’t see it yet, you will as soon as you give your scroll bar a little nudge.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <a href="https://www.archiveofourown.org/users/luckystars1015">
    
  </a>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">The old man lost his tortoise in an entirely non-euphemistic sense. Gintoki would never understand how it could have happened.</p>
<p class="western">Tortoises were slow, right? Even if the geezer had lost sight of it for a whole month, it still should have only made it halfway to the front door. However, by the time Gintoki found the big guy, he was all the way across town at the racetrack with a pair of petite Dolce and Gabbana sunglasses balanced on his beak and a flush stack of starched, crisp 10,000 yen bills tucked into his shell.</p>
<p class="western">There was definitely a story to all this that Gintoki was more than happy to never learn.</p>
<p class="western">Pocketing a few of the bills, he dragged the rest of the lazily snapping, fashionably accessorized ensemble back to the old man, who gave him another few bills for his trouble, which was the end of it.</p>
<p class="western">It was the end of it.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It really should have been the end of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In a way, it really was the end of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m not sure how to put it more simply than this,” the ‘lawyer’ said desperately, “my client has died and left you his business.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Shinpachi leaned Gintoki’s way in a movement loudly broadcast by the leather chair he was seated on in this classy office and whispered, “Where do you think the cameras are?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki didn’t move except to breathe, but even that was enough to convince his own leather chair to perform a solo thrash album.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>"They probably have a closeup on each of our faces to document our reactions,” he said loudly enough to eclipse the chair, “and then a few wide-angle shots to pad out the scene.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You aren’t on a prank show. This is real,” the ‘lawyer’ tried, shaking a thick stack of papers in his direction. “These are legitimate legal documents. How can you not be convinced?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m not stupid,” Gintoki asserted with a finger in his nose. “I couldn’t have spent more than fifteen minutes with the guy, and he wants to give me his life’s work? Leaving it to the tortoise would have been more believable than this.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well,” – the ‘lawyer’ looked down at her folded hands – “that was the original plan.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The Yorozuya Trio would have all fallen out of their chairs, but everyone was far too intimidated by the thought of what sort of terrible noise such an intense motion would summon from the leather. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In the stiff, leathery silence, the ‘lawyer’ added, “Ryuunosuke Carlson was set to receive everything before he went on his bender. After months of poor behavior, my client gave him one last chance when you returned him. The details of what Sir Carlson did with his final chance are unmentionable in decent company.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Shinpachi, who was still leaning in Gintoki’s direction since his last whisper, awkwardly avoiding moving back in a cacophonous sequel, asked, “Is she implying that this tortoise has been knighted?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>From the other side of him, Kagura muttered, “When are </span>
  <em>we</em>
  <span> going to be knighted?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Relevant parties are holding discussions on potentially revoking his knighthood following this scandal. We should know their decision in the next few months,” the ‘lawyer’ said, clearly having overheard their side-chatter. “However, there are certain aspects of his punishment that are already clear. In death, my client is willing his business to the personification of Ryuunosuke Carlson’s final chance turned terrible failure. That is you, Sakata Gintoki.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>So some dead guy was using him in his passive-aggressive revenge play against his tortoise? That was… stupidly petty enough to be believable.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What kind of business are we talking about here? Baskets of Diamonds Inc? A chain of gold bar stores? Robots made of money? Robots that </span><em>print</em><span> money?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>With the faint smile of a consummate professional who had finally hooked her fish, the lawyer said, “Not quite. It’s –”</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p> </p>
<p class="western">“<span>APM?” Hijikata shrieked in a pitch Gintoki had never heard escape the mouth of anyone above the age of ten. “You’re running APM?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Blinking toward his alarm clock, which cheerily informed him that it was four thirty in the morning, Gintoki sat up in bed.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is this a home invasion?” he asked. “How dare you. I know my rights.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shut up and answer the question,” Hijikata demanded, shaking him by the shoulders. “People have been telling shitty lies and you have to confirm for me right now that the lies are shit.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A grumble and a slam emanated from the other room. After a flurry of heavy footsteps, Kagura loomed in the doorway.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Not only do you trespass in my private residence, but you also wake up Kagura. Have you no shame?” Gintoki accused, immediately trying to make it clear to the room which of them should be getting punched in the face by a cranky, superhumanly strong child if any punching were to occur.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shame and everything else, </span><em>absolutely everything else</em><span>, comes second to APM,” Hijikata hissed like a man possessed. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>What’s APM?” Kagura asked through a yawn. “ArmPit Meter?” </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>A Promising Mattress,” Gintoki suggested in the hopes that a return to sleep might not be too far off.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>With a short laugh, Hijikata dropped Gintoki by the shoulders and stepped back. Running a hand through his hair, he flattened and smoothed out the alfalfa nests of some big-time bed-head he must have ignored during his predawn mad dash across town to deprive innocent townspeople of their hard-earned sleep. He then let out a rushing waterfall of a breath, standing up taller. Gradually, he seemed to be gaining back some of his standard composure, which still wasn’t anything to brag home about, as far as Gintoki was concerned.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I knew they were all lies. I knew it,” Hijikata muttered. “There’s no way you wouldn’t know the acronym of your own company. I knew they would never give someone like you control over All-Purpose Mayo.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh, the All-Purpose Mayo store,” Kagura echoed then snorted. “People really say it like that? APM?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Of course not,” Gintoki assured her. “Even with my whopping 0% expertise on this issue, I can say that absolutely no one except for him does that.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Sneering in his direction, Hijikata snapped, “You just can’t conceive of the life of an APM superfan. We live in a whole other dimension separate from the commoners where there are perks that would make your brain explode.” He reached for his wallet and gently withdrew a folded piece of paper, cradling it with reverence before holding it out. “See? I even get personalized messages from APM leadership all the time. I just got this one a few months ago.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You’ve had this in your wallet for months?” Gintoki asked, reluctantly taking the paper, immediately seeing the firm, settled creases where it had been carefully folded and unfolded numerous pathetic times. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s where I keep my most important possessions!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As Gintoki unfolded it, he discovered that parts of the paper were stuck together with some kind of sticky substance that he was fervently hoping was mayo, and he had never hoped for mayo ever in his life.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Y’know,” Kagura said, leaning against the doorframe as she settled in for a long haul, “I’ve been wondering. What do they mean by ‘All-Purpose?’ Is it mayo for every occasion that needs mayo? Or is it mayo for anything at all?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Smiling with a rare warmth, Hijikata said, “You’re exactly right. It’s for anything at all. APM is a superstore paradise filled with glorious aisles of mayo created for each and every desire you’ve had before and could potentially ever have in the future. They have mayo for any purpose you could imagine. All-Purpose Mayo!”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Do they have mayo you can put on rice?” Kagura asked excitedly, lobbing the easiest softball of all time.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, think bigger,” he encouraged.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>What about mayo you can put in the fridge?” Kagura said bright-eyed.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, but –”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s some pretty good mayo,” Kagura affirmed with satisfaction. “I can see why you like it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>There’s your classic mayo, sure, but I’ve even used one of their more obscure brands to paint the Shinsengumi barracks,” Hijikata bragged to Kagura’s amazed gasp. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki felt a warm feeling growing in the pit of his stomach as he realized just how much the Shinsengumi must have suffered over this.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Another time, I used a specialized mayo from APM to repair my television.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Did it work?” Kagura asked.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s still settling in. You have to give these things time.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>More importantly, Hijikata-kun,” Gintoki spoke up, “this disgusting excuse for paper that you gave me is a form letter. The signature is stamped.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Glaring at him, Hijikata spat, “Liar. They might have stamped the signature to save time, but the contents are personalized and special.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s addressed ‘To Whom It May Concern.’”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>And it concerns me! They knew I was concerned, and sent it to me! You just wouldn’t understand as an APM outsider!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Scratching his hip and snorting, Gintoki said, “Yeah, well, about that...”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  
</p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki walked into the boardroom like he owned it. Vaguely nodding at the stiff faces situated around the conference table that was by itself longer than the whole Yorozuya HQ, he sat down at the end, causing a rippling wave of others taking their seats as well.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Since I’m already running late, I’ll just skip the pleasantries,” he said.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Now that he was in charge of things, it was good to be late, because it made people think he was busy with his various important duties and not just forgetful about setting his alarm clock after a late night of drinking the town dry.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>They tell me that you’re the people who run the different big-time operations within All-Purpose Mayo,” Gintoki continued and flicked his fingers forward.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>At his motion, Kagura and Shinpachi, both dressed in sleek black suits and impenetrable sunglasses hefted a pair of briefcases onto the table and then stepped back into the shadows.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Which makes me your new boss,” he said with a shark-toothed smile. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Crossing his legs, leaning back in his chair, and putting his arms behind his head, he let his words marinate in the air for a bit.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I know what you’re all wondering. I know you’re wondering what kind of boss I’ll be, and what I’ll make you change or do differently. I would be wondering that too if I were you.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A tall, intense-looking man spoke up: “I’m actually wondering more about what is in those briefcases.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>There were a few nods of agreement from around the table.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Leaning forward and crossing his fingers under his lips, Gintoki replied, “You will know what is inside the briefcases when you earn that right. Right now, I say you haven’t. You do not yet deserve that answer.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The answer was nothing. Gintoki had dressed Kagura and Shinpachi up and given them a pair of briefcases, because it seemed like it would be a cool power move. Actually... he seemed to recall Kagura sneaking a dung beetle into hers, so maybe there was something in at least one of them.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Someone tell me,” he said. “What is mayonnaise?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Our product.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, but what is our product </span><em>made</em><span> of,” Gintoki pursued.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Eggs, oil, vinegar, and flavorings?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Exactly.” Gintoki rapped his knuckles on the lacquered wood. “This is where we’ve been getting it wrong all this time. We have decided that our fundamentals are these ingredients, but they don’t have to be. We could be making our product even better instead of hiding in fear!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>We’ve perfected our mayo recipes in this company through decades of refinement and research,” Intense Man interjected.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Decades is a long time. It’s so long it’s boring,” Gintoki exclaimed. “Let’s reinvent ourselves. And we don’t have to venture entirely into the unknown to do it. We’ll keep the eggs.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He nodded to himself.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, we’ll keep the eggs, but lose the rest. Then we can add in flour, butter, sugar, baking soda, maybe with some vanilla extract...”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Are you asking us to bake sugar cookies?” </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Sugar cookies!” Gintoki slammed his fist on the table. “Now that’s an idea! Good hustle. Also, some cake, ice cream, and candies would be great too.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Sir, this is a specialty mayonnaise store.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>And I’m telling you we’re going to release a line of Sweet Mayo products on which myself and my associates will receive massive discounts.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>The biggest discounts,” Kagura’s voice echoed from the shadows.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>We can’t just become a dessert company and not sell mayo anymore,” Intense Man exclaimed.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>With a dismissive wave of his hand, Gintoki said, “Put a few cheap mayo bottles in the back for the one person who might be stupid enough to want them.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki was quick to discover that being the CEO of All-Purpose Mayo was a pretty sweet deal. He made money simply by existing, and then he got to tell a bunch of people to do what he wanted them to do. Ryuunosuke was really missing out.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In two months, every All-Purpose Mayo store across Edo was filled floor-to-ceiling with Sweet Mayo delicacies that had the places smelling nicer than a chocolate cake factory in the middle of a cotton candy forest. As expected, these new items were immensely popular. Apparently a bunch of people came into the shops because they were curious as to what Sweet Mayo could be, and then started buying all of it when they realized that the brand name carried a healthy variety of deliciously scrumptious treats.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Not selling dog food to humans worked wonders. Who would have thought?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki had to acknowledge how good he was at business and having great ideas. There was no other option but for him to celebrate his own excellence. He did so by opening his fifth box of the day of All-Purpose Mayo Malt Balls.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As he grabbed his first ball, a shadow loomed over him and his park bench. He looked up to see the ghoulish remnants of what used to be the Shinsengumi’s VC. His hair had mostly been pulled out by the roots, with only a few fragile tufts remaining here and there. His cheeks had gone so concave that insects could have set up an expedition into them with a chance of never returning. His eyes had no whites at all, only wavy lines of pernicious black. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hijikata-kun, hello,” Gintoki acknowledged. “You look well.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He popped the malt ball into his mouth and crunched it loudly in the heavy silence.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Eventually, Hijikata’s jaw slowly creaked open like a rusty drawbridge. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Throw your malt balls on the floor,” he said.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Nah, I’m good,” Gintoki replied.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Go on. Do it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>They will eventually get to the ground, but they have to go through me first.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki threw a bundle into his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Do it,” Hijikata repeated. “Litter so I can book you.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Wow, looking for any excuse to arrest me on my own tax dollars? You’re really showing your crooked hand there,” he said through his malt balls, though largely without spice.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It was far too difficult to get angry at someone who so clearly was the losing loser who would lose. Gintoki bared his teeth into a sneer, showing off his all-mighty sense of superiority.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is someone feeling down because the town’s newest up-and-coming innovator has found a way to make mayo not shitty?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>All you did was replace mayo with terrible sugar products, you asshole!” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata pulled out one of his final three tufts of hair. A loose strand settled on top of Gintoki’s malt balls.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Simply business. You wouldn’t understand,” Gintoki assured him. “But you really should be grateful. They were about to take down every last bit of Mayo Classic and replace it with Sweet Mayo, but I stood up and said no. I made sure they kept… like one box way in the back somewhere.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I know all about that one box,” Hijikata snapped. “I have looked for that box in every APM store across the city. Out of all of them, I was able to amass just twenty bottles for the week. Twenty bottles. For the next </span><em>seven</em><span> days. Seven more days until they restock. What the hell do you expect me to do?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Twenty bottles wasn’t enough for a week? Why hadn’t the Shinsengumi staged an intervention with this guy yet?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Maybe try not to guzzle up the city’s whole supply of pig slop,” Gintoki suggested. “Or go get some at a convenience store if you really need more.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata’s jaw creaked wider with stilted, empty laughter.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>As the CEO of APM, I’m sure you know that you produce the mayo not only for your own stores, but also for everyone else in the goddamned region. APM bought up all the other mayo producers over the past decade because they were the best. Now, you’re the only game in town. And with your switch to the piles of rotten sugar you call Sweet Mayo, this means </span><em><b>no one has any mayo</b></em><span>.” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>During his last sentence, a few shadow demons crawled out of Hijikata’s mouth and skittered off into the nearby shrubbery. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Actually, Gintoki hadn’t realized any of that mayo supplier stuff. He ignored most of the daily briefings, and zoned out when people talked too much business at him. So no more mayo then?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m still not seeing the problem here,” he said.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata pulled one of the last two tufts of hair out of his head. Another strand landed on Gintoki’s malt balls. Gintoki was busy looking at the hairs on his balls when Hijikata punched him.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The force of the blow to his jaw sent him flying off the bench and into the bushes, malt balls raining down around him like a dull brown hail. Snarling and scrambling to his feet, he marched forward, ready to start swinging his own fists until a single thought occurred to him. He paused.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Spitting some blood into the weeds, Gintoki spoke mildly, “I think it’s time I got rid of the last box.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata, who had been preparing his own forward charge, paused as well. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Huh?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>The last box of Mayo Classic that I left in the back of the stores for the losers,” Gintoki clarified. “It’s time I got rid of it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>All remaining color immediately drained from Hijikata’s face and he quickly began to stammer, “No, no, no. You can’t! You can’t do that!”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I can do whatever I want.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>We already established this when you woke up a household of innocent, exhausted civilians at a time even roosters would consider to be rude. I’m the CEO of All-Purpose Mayo.” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata pulled out the last tuft of hair from his head. This time, there was no box of malt balls for any lazy stands to fall into. He ground his teeth so hard that small white shavings flew out. Clenching his fists, he vibrated in place.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki lazily sunk back down onto the bench. He shoved at Hijikata’s knee with his boot. The guy knew what he had to do, so he better get on with it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“… <span>m ...or..” Hijikata mumbled without hair.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I can’t hear you,” Gintoki said, all smiles.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m….” Hijikata trailed off baldly.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>C’mon, you can do better than that.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m sorry, okay,” he exclaimed, somehow even more hairless than he had been a second before. “Please don’t take away the last of the mayo. Please.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Having absolutely every bit of power there was to grab really did feel good. It was good enough that Gintoki hardly felt upset about his malt balls anymore.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll think about it,” he replied gleefully.</span></p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That year, cherry blossom viewing season opened with the public announcement that Ryuunosuke Carlson was no longer Sir Carlson. The news program displayed a picture of him sporting a dirtied, discolored shell, and a body covered in glitter and fading temporary tattoos, as the talking heads discussed the tortoise’s demotion from illustrious knight to normal, everyday, nationally disgraced reptile. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki barely registered the contents of the conversation as he turned off the TV and followed Kagura and Shinpachi outside, a picnic blanket draped carelessly over one shoulder. The three of them were going to claim a primo deluxe blossom viewing spot where the kids could enjoy themselves and Gintoki could get good and drunk.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That was the plan, but, like with most plans, the Shinsengumi decided to suck.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A bunch of uniformed thugs had already set up camp at the area of the park Gintoki wanted. He bet they had rubbed their butts all over the grass and everything.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>We really do have a really good spot,” Soichiro agreed with the subtext of the Yorozuya trio’s dark stares. “I would go so far as to say this is the best spot.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll make an even better spot on your face! A big black one,” Kagura exclaimed.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Inserting himself between the rampaging children, Gintoki waved his hands lazily.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hold on,” he said. “There’s a much easier way to settle this.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Everyone looked at him, and he was suddenly the target of numerous expressions holding healthy mixtures of fear and trepidation. They must be remembering cherry blossom viewing seasons past, which would certainly be nothing like today. Today would be quite different.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oi, Hijikata,” he said.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata was glaring at him like he was a murderer wearing his victim’s skin and parading it around town, while also systematically ridding that town of the one condiment he ever held dear.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What?” he growled.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Tell your people to move, so my people can sit here.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>After a moment of silence, the Shinsengumi team broke out into gaggles of guffaws. A few of them fell over, conquered by their own wheezing laughter.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You think our boss is just going to let you boss him around?” one lackey asked. “Have you met him before?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Everyone seemed to find these questions as hilarious as what Gintoki had said, and they all redoubled their laughter. Every member of the Shinsengumi was laughing except for Soichiro, who seemed mildly interested by the proceedings, and the Vice-Commander himself, who simply was Pissed. If looks could kill, Gintoki would have been atomized particles by now.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>So what’s it gonna be?” he asked with a terrible grin. “Are you gonna move or what?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>If his hair had grown back enough for him to pull it out again, Gintoki was sure Hijikata would have. However, the stubs emerging from his head were only about a centimeter high at this point, which was a difficult length to get a good grip on. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Instead, he simply grimaced, swallowed, and rested a hand on the fuzzy shoulder of his gorilla. Hijikata whispered something in his ear that had Kondo shooting up from his seat, immediately flushed.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Otae-san? Really?” he asked, coughing hastily before shouting, “Men, we’re moving out! Grab everything! We’ll be setting up on the other side of the park right next to that yellow blanket with the basket that definitely has some dark ma- I mean, deliciously </span><span><span>fried eggs </span></span><span>nestled inside it!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In the midst of the general commotion, grumbles, and moving-of-materials that ensued, the sharper goons of the bunch seemed to have grasped enough of the situation to sneak glances at Gintoki in what looked like varying mixtures of awe and respect.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Sidling up next to him and wiping a fake tear from his eye, Soichiro said, “You’re a true inspiration, danna.” </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Of course,” Gintoki easily agreed as his eyes found Hijikata’s back in the crowd.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It was a back that was very determined to keep facing him. Even when the placement of the Shinsengumi mook he was talking to would have had any normal person turning in Gintoki’s direction, Hijikata refused to look. What a sore loser. So sore, in fact, that it was getting irritating. What was the guy good for if he wouldn’t even give Gintoki space to gloat?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I also aspire to one day own a controlling share in a company that holds power over Hijikata’s emotional well-being,” Soichiro continued. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Don’t let your dreams be dreams, kid,” Gintoki said, barely listening as he started to dig around in his bag for the bottle of booze he brought with him. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A drink suddenly sounded real nice right about now.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Soichiro sighed and muttered something along the lines of ‘Speak for yourself,’ as he wandered over to join the rest of his team, but Gintoki wasn’t nearly invested enough in the whole exchange to really parse that one out. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>More importantly, the Yorozuya finally had their perfect spot. Gintoki leaned back against a tree, took a swig of the good stuff, and watched the petals gently floating along. Kagura and Shinpachi each took a seat next to him, settling down on the blanket.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>CEOs of cutthroat corporations with monopolistic strangleholds on their respective industries really are all-powerful,” Kagura mused as she sucked on her sukonbu. “I think I know what I want to be when I grow up.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s like putting down superhero or mermaid in the spot for your future occupation on your school worksheet,” Shinpachi countered. “It’s just not realistic. Besides, CEOs should never be doing what Gin-san is doing. He’s blatantly abusing his position by blackmailing civil servants.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I know! It’s incredible,” Kagura gushed. “Do you think we can get All-Purpose Mayo to take over other industries so we can hold power over more people?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s not the lesson you should be internalizing from what I just said!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>What industries?” Gintoki asked, nursing his bottle of sake. “Is there someone in particular you want to screw over? You have to make sure you’re grabbing onto the corporate equivalent of their ultimate weakness or we’ll just end up wasting a lot of All-Purpose money.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Gin-san, don’t humor her on this! We’re wandering into dangerous territory!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>The stupid sadist would be a good place to start,” Kagura said with venom, “but who knows what a terrible person like him wants to buy? He just feeds off of everyone’s pain, so he doesn’t need food or anything.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well,” Shinpachi ventured, “if you want to make a sadist unhappy, why don’t you make the world better? The happier people get, the less enjoyment he has. You should make All-Purpose Mayo a company that advocates for a better world!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A moment of silence descended alongside the sakura petals.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>That sounds way too difficult,” Kagura said. “How about we find out his celebrity crushes and get brand deals with them? We can make them shoot commercials where they talk about how much they hate him, and air the commercials during shows he likes to watch.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s just plain cruel,” Shinpachi snapped and roughly elbowed Gintoki in the side. “She’s learning from your example. Be a better role model!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>When it came to his decisions for All-Purpose Mayo, Gintoki wasn’t being mean just to be mean. He was being mean for entirely selfish reasons. There was a big difference there. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It wasn’t his problem that him getting what he wanted happened to negatively affect the neighborhood mayo guzzlers. That was just how this world worked. Some people inherited companies after a strange string of improbable and ridiculous circumstances, and other people didn’t.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Sure, maybe he flexed his newfound power a bit, but he only did so when provoked. Hijikata had punched first. He had also been sitting where Gintoki wanted to sit for cherry blossom viewing, and while maybe the guy hadn’t known that when he sat there, it still definitely counted as an act of aggression…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki didn’t see what was so wrong with winning every once and a while. Or every time.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Stop arguing about pointless things,” he ordered. “Go enjoy yourselves.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In that miraculous moment, Kagura and Shinpachi actually decided to listen to him. As they stood, they seemed to quickly exchange a look over his head that Gintoki didn’t quite manage to catch, and ran off into the park. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Kagura easily found some friends of hers. Gintoki vaguely recognized some familiar faces in the crowd of snot-nosed kids that were determinedly throwing piles of cherry blossoms into a mud puddle. With her arrival, Kagura quickly upped the ante in whatever game that was. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Shinpachi, on the other hand, headed off in the opposite direction. Gintoki wasn’t facing that way, but he could guess that the little brother was going to find out how his big sister was faring with the rowdy Shinsengumi crowd. Keeping his back against the tree, Gintoki did not turn around to check.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Instead, he sipped his sake and watched the blossoms fall. Out of the past few years of cherry blossom viewings he had taken part in, this one was by far the quietest. </span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">“<span>It was you! You did it!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Blinking toward his alarm clock, which cheerily informed him that it was four thirty in the morning, Gintoki wondered if he was in some sort of terrible Groundhog Day situation.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shut up,” he said to the world.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You made it </span><em>real</em><span>,” Hijikata barreled on, either stupidly or stubbornly oblivious. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki grumbled incoherently and rolled into a fresh pile of his own drool. It was wet and gross enough to get him sitting up. He pawed at his sticky cheek.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What are you talking about?” he snapped. </span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Mayo Deluxe,” Hijikata whispered reverently, his lips letting the syllables loose like each one was a butterfly taking off from a flower.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Through the fog of sleep, Gintoki struggled to figure out what the hell was going on. He squinted at a quietly ecstatic Hijikata through the pale darkness for a long moment. The guy’s hair was back to full strength, and the straight v-bangs were shimmering with pure positive energy.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh,” he said finally. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>This morning was the first day All-Purpose Mayo was going to stock its brand new Mayo Deluxe on the shelves. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Stores don’t open for another few hours. How did you get your hands on the stuff already?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I have my connections,” Hijikata stated proudly, like knowing someone on the mayo distribution chain was worthy of bragging rights.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That’s the most amazing thing I’ve heard today,” Gintoki said. “I am sure whatever anyone else next tells me will beat that, but you currently hold the record by default.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shut up,” Hijikata replied without heat. “You made the only thing I’ve ever wished for come true. I immediately needed to...” – he shuffled his feet, rubbed his nose, and looked to the side – “...saythanksorwhatever...”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>For this prideful guy to come all the way across town to break into his house and wake him up to say that was, well... too much for the early morning.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s just mayo,” Gintoki huffed. “Don’t get weird about it. I know that’s going to be hard for you, but I need you to try.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s not ‘just mayo!’ It’s the only incarnation of mayo that could be called perfection,” Hijikata said with a simple earnestness that was somewhat reminiscent of his Tosshi days. “I didn’t even think you were listening that night when I told you about it, but now I know that not only were you listening, you obviously remembered every little detail. Mayo Deluxe is a flawless copy.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki didn’t appreciate being called out like this. Sure, maybe he had remembered that time a couple years ago when Hijikata had drunkenly spouted off his ideal recipe in precise ratios for his ultimate mayonnaise or whatever. It had just gotten stuck in his head like some catchy anime openings and ad jingles do; there was no rhyme or reason for it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Since it had been stuck up there, rattling around in his brain for days, he had decided to try it out and whipped up a batch himself. The taste hadn’t been bad. Not exceptional, but also not bad. It had him thinking that maybe Hijikata would get more mileage out of it than him, so he had stuck it in the fridge and casually considered ways he could give it to the guy without it being really uncomfortably awkward. Before he could figure it out, the bowl in the fridge had disappeared, but the smell had remained in Kagura’s satisfied burps for days to follow.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That had been the last of that saga until Gintoki had brought the recipe in the form of Mayo Deluxe to his All-Purpose Mayo peons about a month ago and they had run with it. That’s all. It didn’t have to be A Big Deal.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>If I change the name to Mayo But Only For Those People Who Let Poor Gin-san Sleep, would it actually get you to obey the rules of human decency?” he grumbled.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata took that as an opportunity to light up a cig and crouch down like Gintoki had just invited him to tea right next to his futon.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I might have misjudged you. Maybe you’re not all bad, Yorozuya,” Hijikata said, blowing smoke in Gintoki’s face as if fulfilling his need to balance out the compliment with a little blatant bullshittery. “Maybe there’s two percent of you that’s good for something.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Coughing, Gintoki snapped, “Only two percent? So I’m a rounding error away from being complete shit?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hey, don’t beat yourself up over it,” Hijikata said, grinning.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I could beat you up over it,” Gintoki suggested.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Keep dreaming, dumbass.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>They held their positions, Gintoki in his boxers half sitting up in his futon and Hijikata kneeling next to him in his civilian clothes, staring each other down in the darkness. It was reminiscent of those times when there was a sudden lull in their long-winded argument at a bar or when they had just finished kicking the shit out of each other in the middle of the road somewhere, when something loud and annoying fell sharply into silence and... something else. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It wasn’t comfortable. It was tense and weighty in a way that made Gintoki feel like he should be doing something like throwing an insult or mooching another drink, but his standard actions weren’t quite applicable here. He knew what all the buttons on the controller did, but none of them had the right input for this. Maybe it was a special combo he could unlock with more experience points?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>For his part, Hijikata simply returned Gintoki’s gaze. His pupils dilated and they seemed to be holding something that had Gintoki’s hand reflexively reaching out for – </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Gin-chan?” Kagura asked through a yawn. “Why is Toshi in our house in the middle of the night again? Do I need to set up a curfew for how late your friends can stay over?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata shot up, shoulders stiff as he whipped around to face the room’s newest occupant.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I just got to taste APM’s first consumer batch of Mayo Deluxe,” he said quickly. “It’s life changing. I wanted to voice my support as soon as I could.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It is pretty good,” Kagura readily agreed. “And it’s actually been a long time coming. Gin-chan made this mayo once a couple years back, but now it’s something we can share with everyone.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh,” Hijikata said with his back to Gintoki, so his expression was a mystery. “He made some himself? A couple years ago?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yeah, he –”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Everyone out of my room,” Gintoki snapped. “A man needs his beauty sleep!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You started it by having people over at strange hours.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I don’t have them over! They break into my house!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki flung the covers of his futon roughly over his head and hunkered down. At long last, he began to hear retreating footsteps.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>When it sounded like he was getting close to the doorframe, Hijikata murmured, “Maybe six percent,” and then he was gone.</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki finally felt like he was getting into the swing of running a multi-national mayo corporation. People would show him charts with red and green lines swooping and soaring and diving through numbers with far too many zeros to actually be real, he would say something vaguely inspirational like ‘The sky is there to show us how far we can climb,’ and then everyone would rush around and make phone calls. If they kept pressing him for opinions, he would recommend adding more sugar. The results of saying that were consistently fantastic.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">While a certain Shinsengumi’s particular Vice-Commander initially didn’t seem to agree with Gintoki’s form of leadership or way of thinking, he was readily learning to fall in line. If he ever argued a little too ferociously, or scrunched his nose a little too hard at one of Gintoki’s azuki-topped meals of excellence, or bumped shoulders with Shinpachi and didn’t apologize, Gintoki could just remove Mayo Deluxe from the shelves for a few weeks or decrease the amount of Mayo Classic going around, and Hijikata would be running over to the Yorozuya to make amends, usually with some of All-Purpose Mayo’s newest Sweet Mayo products in hand.</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>At the same time, Gintoki made sure to give the guy his due when he was being a reasonable human being. If they weren’t fighting at the moment, he might let Hijikata make suggestions for new flavors, and All-Purpose Mayo might even give them a spin if their CEO was feeling particularly generous. Gintoki ran a red light right in front of the VC one time, and, when nothing came of it, a certain someone’s idea in the form of Mayo </span>
  <span>
    <span>After Dark </span>
  </span>
  <span>appeared on All-Purpose Mayo shelves as a limited time special. Hijikata was grinning ear-to-ear for days after that one.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>All-in-all, it was a good system. Month by month, Gintoki had less conflicts to deal with, less cops riding his ass, and more people with v-bangs not only listening to his thoughts and opinions, but also eagerly agreeing with them. Last week, Gintoki had even gotten Hijikata to admit that Jump! was better than magazines, and that he really had known that all along, and that he had just been lying all this time to be contrary.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata was truly growing and evolving. His personality was becoming bearable. He was accepting rational reasonable words as rational and reasonable. He was…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He was…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hello, danna,” Soichiro said, glancing his way as Gintoki dragged his feet out of the pachinko parlor.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The kid looked like he was out on a standard patrol with one of the Shinsengumi’s everyday mooks for company. The side character nodded Gintoki’s way respectfully, his sweaty cheeks and forehead glistening in the summer sun. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yo,” Gintoki said with a casual hand flap.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m surprised you’re still set on losing your money when you have so much more of it,” Soichiro commented.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>While Gintoki may indeed have left the parlor with less money than when he entered, that was absolutely none of this brat’s business. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I couldn’t lose money if I tried,” he lied. “I’m on such a big, juicy lucky streak, there isn’t a roll of toilet paper in the universe that’s long enough to completely wipe it off.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Really?” Soichiro cocked his head. “But when you were first walking out of the parlor you were waving your wallet around like there was nothing left in it. And you looked beaten. You looked beaten down into the ground and completely humiliated.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Dammit! Had he been that obvious?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You don’t know that for sure, Okita-san,” the random Shinsengumi grunt interjected, his voice gargling strangely. “Maybe danna gave all his immense winnings to someone inside the parlor as an act of charity, or to invest in a new business.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Now two-bit side characters were sticking up for him? Somehow this had Gintoki feeling more pathetic than if everyone had stuck with insults!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You stay out of this,” he snapped, immediately getting a gurgled ‘Sorry!’ and a swift, sweaty bow for his trouble.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>But is it true?” Souichiro pursued in good humor. “Did you come across the investment opportunity of a lifetime in the seedy underbelly of a pachinko parlor?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Maybe I did,” Gintoki exclaimed. “What’s it to you?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Seeming to consider it, Soichiro smiled. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I suppose I’m looking forward to whatever new business comes out of it. Your first venture has been so successful in so many pleasantly unexpected ways that I can’t wait to see what comes next.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki wasn’t sure if it was a good thing to be rated highly on Soichiro’s grading scale these days. It left him with a bit of a sour taste in his mouth, reminiscent of the wildly unpopular Mayo Classic.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well, on that note,” Soichiro continued, “I suppose we should get going. Come on, Hijikata.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>With another pair of nods, the two Shinsengumi officers continued on their path down the street. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Good riddance! After the loss he had suffered at the cruel hands of Lady Luck, Gintoki needed a nice sugary pick-me-up away from annoying cops and…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Wait a second.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hold on.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hold on a second.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Wait a second, hold on.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>In double time, Gintoki sped-walked down the street toward Soichiro. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Wait a second,” he said. “Hold on.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Soichiro turned to look at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What was that last thing you said?” Gintoki asked.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Pausing for a moment, Soichiro replied, “That I’m looking forward to your next business?”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>No, after that.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That I was going to leave?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>With who?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hijikata,” Soichiro said.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The bland, secondary character next to him smiled wetly, globs of sweat dripping into the dirt with his awkward, stilted movements. Actually, was that sweat? It seemed whiter than sweat, and more viscous…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh,” Gintoki laughed. “You have two people in the Shinsengumi with the last name Hijikata? How pointlessly confusing! You should kick one out or give each of them a permanent nickname to tell them apart like Mookie and Mayo-Dumbass.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>As much as I like the idea, there’s only ever just been one,” Soichiro said brightly. “This right here is the Shinsengumi’s piece-of-shit Vice-Commander Hijikata Toshirou. Don’t you recognize him?”</span></p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Soichiro was more than ready to skip off on work and join Gintoki for some nearby beef skewers, while Hijikata seemed happy enough to go along with wherever the party consensus took the group.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Whatever you all think is best,” had been his singular, somewhat-gloopy contribution to the conversation.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As they took some outside benches and munched on their skewers, courtesy of the Vice-Commander’s wallet, Gintoki took the opportunity to actually get a good look at the guy.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata nibbled quietly on a piece of beef, hunched over in a way that made him seem much shorter than he actually was, and far less imposing. The bench was already sticky with whatever liquid was coming off of him. It quickly pooled and began dripping off the edges of the wood with slow, dull plops. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The stuff was everywhere. His uniform was soaked with it, and his hair was an oily mess, slicked back in crusty blobs, leaving a grand view of his shimmering, wet forehead. The hair of his eyebrows stuck out at awkward angles, dripping fluids onto his eyelashes which dripped them onto his cheeks which sludged them down his chin which led them to fall unceremoniously onto his beef skewers. His eyes were unrecognizable – small, plain specks of black that seemed hazy and unfocused, even when they were looking directly at him.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Can I help you with something, danna?” Hijikata asked.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki ignored him.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>So what are we dealing with here? Another cursed sword? Another one of those parasitic warts? Are we really that stretched for content that we have to resort to uninteresting sequels?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Nothing like that,” Soichiro said and shrugged. “Pretty sure this is just mayonnaise.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hesitantly, Gintoki reached out a finger, stuck it in an egregiously large and sticky pile of the fluid, whipped some up, took a lick, and immediately, unfortunately recognized the flavor. What had squeezed its way through this guy’s pores tasted exactly like the All-Purpose Mayo brand Mayo Deluxe.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is this what a mayo overdose looks like? It just starts leaking out?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I thought if you understood anything about Hijikata, you would understand that there is never too much mayonnaise for someone like him. His body doesn’t digest it like humans do, so he can easily consume enough in one sitting to kill ten normal men.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That sounded about right.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Then what?” Gintoki asked, flicking a booger into a particularly slimy pile of mayonnaise where it lay jiggling for a moment before settling in to become the cherry of its very own shit-cake. “What is happening right now?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata excreted more goop as Soichiro just looked disappointed. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You can’t tell me you did this on accident. I thought you were a better sadist than that. I was even taking notes.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Are you telling me this is my fault, oi?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Sighing, Soichiro stood up and rolled a portable whiteboard into the scene. He uncapped a marker, straightened the tie of the casual suit he was suddenly wearing, and started drawing. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>So here we have the two primary methods of persuasion boiled down to their fundamental components,” he said, and tapped – “The positive incentive or the carrot, and the negative consequence or the stick.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As Gintoki bit some beef off of his own stick, Soichiro drew a stick figure with fuzzy hair holding the carrot in one hand and the stick in the other.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is that supposed to be me? There’s more to my character than just my perm, you know.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Pausing for a moment, Soichiro added a six-pack onto the stick figure.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’ll allow it,” Gintoki said.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Next to the fuzzy stick figure, Soichiro added a bleeding stick figure getting stabbed by another stick figure. The stick figure doing the stabbing was also given a six-pack, but the bleeding stick figure getting stabbed was not.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>In the good old serialized days, when you used to use your carrot or stick on Hijikata,” – Soichiro drew an arrow from the fuzzy figure to the bleeding figure – “you were usually met with reasonable resistance.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Soichiro drew big angry eyebrows and a frowny face on the bleeding stick figure.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>However, when you got your hands on All-Purpose Mayo, your methods of persuasion became much more powerful, because mayo is all this piece-of-shit cares about,” Soichiro said while changing the carrot and stick in the fuzzy figure’s hands into rather familiar swords. “Your persuasion leveled up so much that your stick evolved into Tessaiga, the legendary weapon that can slay one hundred demon vice-commanders with a single swing, while your carrot transformed into Tenseiga, the legendary weapon that can revive them.” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>His persuasion was stealing famous swords from other series now? How completely unnecessary. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What about Lake Touya?” Gintoki said, patting the sword at his hip. “Or is it only known as Lake Chopped Liver to you?” </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Even with it just being a wooden stick that he occasionally polished with curry powder and snot, you would be hard-pressed to find a top-ten anime sword list without it! Such was his immense power as the best Jump! protagonist that Gintoki could get an infomercial prop sword memorialized a</span>
  <span>
    <span>longside</span>
  </span>
  <span> the likes of Zangetsu and Ragnarok. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>As...” Soichiro trailed off, seemingly at a loss for the right words. “As valuable as your useless Touyako is, it doesn’t fit the carrot and stick metaphor we’re working with,” he finally said, ignoring Gintoki’s indignant ‘Oi!’ at the ruthless drive-by razzing of his signature weapon. “Which is to say, you kept slashing at a defenseless Hijikata with your Tessaiga stick, beating his will down into nothing and killing his spirit. Then you kept reviving that spirit with your Tenseiga carrot, ensuring his absolute obedience.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Soichiro stabbed the bleeding stick figure roughly with his marker half a dozen times then capped it and turned to face Gintoki.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>In other words, you cut off Hijikata’s balls and replaced them with mayonnaise bottles, danna,” he said succinctly. “Class dismissed.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A faint chime was heard. Gintoki groaned, gathered up his books, and prepared to go to – </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>No. Wait another second.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Soichiro-sensei,” Gintoki said. “I have a question.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s Sougo-sensei, but go on.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>When you said I gave him mayo-balls, you meant that figuratively, right? As some part of this shit metaphor bonanza you have going on?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No, this time I was being quite literal,” Soichiro said. “We could pull down his pants to show you, but I doubt he has the wits about him right now to be embarrassed by it, so what’s really the point?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The only point would be to embarrass him?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>He’s right, you know,” Hijikata gurgled pleasantly. “I really wouldn’t care.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki very pointedly avoided looking down as he said, “It seems we’re heading in a direction that could require a change in the rating of this story, and Gin-san is here to be an accessible, clean, and universal protagonist.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Everyone fell silent. Soichiro folded his arms and bit his lips, looking off to the side, while Hijikata just looked nervous, more mayo spilling off him than ever.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What is with those two reactions? Why would you react like that to such a true and obvious statement?” Gintoki shouted. </span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Rubbing his nose with a finger and coughing once, Soichiro said, “I suppose I do agree that bringing a mayonnaise cannon to the front lines at this point might not be the best idea. Let’s just have Hijikata describe what happened instead.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Of course, Okita-san,” Hijikata said amenably, mayonnaise dribbling down his smiling lips similar to how other fluids might in a more highly rated story. “I woke up one morning and when I went to the bathroom, there were two small APM bottles of Mayo Deluxe down there. They immediately starting pumping mayo up through my whole body, so now I’m always a little messy. It can’t be called a problem though. Not when everything tastes like the best mayonnaise in the world!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>His giddy laugh came out as a thick, bubbly gargle that was doing its very best to summon Gintoki’s gag reflex.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I will admit that it has been a while since I was taught basic biology, and I slept through most of it, but even so,” Gintoki said carefully. “Even </span><em>so</em><span>, I still know those parts that you claim are now bottles of mayonnaise – those parts aren’t pumping anything </span><em>in</em><span>. Their cargo is the stuff that comes out.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>APM really upgrades everything it touches to its maximum mayonnaise potential,” Hijikata agreed with a liquid reverence. “Every purpose becomes All-Purpose.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Had this guy’s entire circulatory system been overtaken by mayonnaise? What did that even mean?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A puddle of white goop nearly approaching half the size of his own body had formed beneath Hijikata, under the bench. His body was oozing and sludging inside and out in a way Gintoki didn’t want to think about too deeply. He didn’t want to consider what crusty mayonnaise would do when squeezed through the capillaries of a brain. He didn’t want to think about any of it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is something wrong?” Hijikata asked politely, empty of any sort of substantial feeling.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Scrunching his nose, Gintoki stood up. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>This mayo’s starting to stink,” he grumbled without looking back. “I’m out of here.”</span></p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Ever since that day, Gintoki did his utmost to avoid the hell out of the Shinsengumi. He was of the mind that if he didn’t have to see it, he didn’t have to deal with it. Also, if he was the cause of Hijkata’s mayo-balls, maybe him not being around could also be a cure.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>However, as big as Edo was, Gintoki had intimately come to find that the town was never quite big enough to hide from trouble whenever it was dead set on calling to collect.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Which was why when the door to the bar slid open and a pair of slimy sandals trudged in, he was hardly surprised. Gintoki took another sip of sake, steeling himself as the sandals drew a leaking snail’s trail of mayonnaise along the floor, heading in his direction. The owner of the bar looked irritated but resigned.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Sitting down in the seat next to him with a squelch, Hijikata said, “Hello, danna.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki was tempted to tell him to go away, but that would mean drawing his stick-turned-Tessaiga, and that was apparently why this guy had turned into a condiment blob in the first place. Instead, Gintoki ignored him and sipped his drink.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Easily taking the hint and accepting it without argument, Hijikata settled into the silence and made no further attempts to initiate conversation.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Minutes passed.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki ordered another drink and downed it in half the time it took to get through his last one.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Minutes passed.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m not going to include you in any more All-Purpose Mayo decisions, so you might as well give up on that,” Gintoki declared suddenly.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Hijikata put down his drink and slouch forward. The table in front of them had developed a dull liquid sheen.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I understand,” he said. “I’m sure you are doing what is best for the company.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>That includes bad things,” Gintoki said. “I won’t take mayo away if you argue with me or punch me. I won’t change stuff because of what you do or what you say, so you should just say whatever you want.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata nodded, and then picked up his drink, taking a sip as he continued to leak fluids.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Did you hear me? I said you should say whatever the hell you want,” Gintoki snapped.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Pausing, Hijikata swallowed what sounded like a waterfall of thick slop, and cleared his throat.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well,” he began, “what would you like me to say?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki slammed his fist against the sticky tabletop before he could think about it. In the ensuing silence, he could feel all eyes in the bar on him, but he didn’t care. The most frustrating part of it all was that Hijikata didn’t seem to care either. He hadn’t jumped or snapped at the noise. He hadn’t thrown a punch or an insult. He had simply accepted it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki didn’t know what to do. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Is this it? Is this just going to be what you’re like now? Mayokata Toshimayo-kun?” he spat bitterly. “You get a little bullying from me and you’re out for the count?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>You weren’t being a bully,” Hijikata said, serene. “You’ve been the nicest anyone has ever been to me. You gave me the mayo of my dreams.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Maybe that was the problem. Maybe if it had just been Tessaiga, the guy could have mounted a defense. However, like Soichiro said, this had been the result of him stabbing away with Tessaiga, but also restoring Hijikata back to full health with Tenseiga whenever his HP got too low. In the realms of pain and pleasure, brutality and benevolence, Gintoki didn’t just hold all the good cards, he had the entire deck in his hands, and boy had he used it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Would it have been better if I’d just been cruel?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata’s eyes focused on him as if peering at something through a fogged pane of glass.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You’re the CEO of APM,” he said with a sludgy, watery warmth. “I know you always have and always will make the right decisions.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>This was the wall Gintoki was up against. No matter what he did or said, all Hijikata would see was the figurehead of the company that produced his liquid dopamine. It gave Gintoki a strangely crude and brutal power over this human pile of mayonnaise whether he wanted it or not. Even if he didn’t exercise that power for a day, a week, a month, a whole year, he could easily start abusing it in the next year. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The possibility would always remain, he knew, and Hijikata knew it too, which was probably why the guy was still walking around as a greasy pile of fluids. The status quo had found its new balance in light of their new normal, and that balance was all mayonnaise.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki lifted his hand from the mayo-slathered tabletop, his own fingers dripping with the putrid stuff. He reached out like he had started to in a tense moment many mornings ago. The hand met a clammy cheek that might as well have been on some stubby, melting ice sculpture, considering how little form and life was left in it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He shifted his fingers and roughly pinched, dragging the cheek outward. Hijikata simply watched him do it, eyes glazed over with a white, disgusting film. Gintoki let go, and the loose skin sludged back to frame the goopy outline of an empty, docile face.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Where did you go, you stupid bastard?” he asked.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m right here,” Hijikata replied.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>No further words were spoken between them for the rest of the evening.</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Three days later, Gintoki kicked down a door. It went flying off its hinges, crashing into the wall on the other side, partially impaling a window. Glass shards crunched under his boots as he stomped into the room.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The room itself was nothing to look at – mostly because it was dark. However, with the lights turned on, it probably wouldn’t have been much better. From what he could see from slats of light coming through the broken window, the place was damp, disgusting, and littered with half-eaten convenience store bento boxes that, from what he could smell, were more mold apartment complexes than food at this point. There were crumpled newspapers – many of which were open to articles regarding All-Purpose Mayo –, unopened mail with scary-looking red stamps on the fronts of the envelopes, and a general piling up of waste of its single occupant who had obviously stopped giving a damn ages ago. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Hey,” he said, and a pair of black, beady eyes met his. “Yeah, chickenshit, I’m talking to you.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki stood in front him, as angry as he’d ever been.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What the hell do you think you’ve been doing? There’s no excusing any of it,” he snapped. “Sure, when it comes to blame for how we all got here, some rests on my shoulders too. I may have done some terrible, mayo-related things, but only because you </span><em>let me</em><span>. No matter what anyone says or believes, I sure as hell know that you were never forced to just sit there and take it. You became this… hollow, pathetic shell of yourself because you chose to, and you know what? It was the wrong decision.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s a decision that doesn’t just affect you,” he continued. “It’s bigger than that. Much bigger. What about all the people that were depending on you for leadership? When the going gets tough, you’re just going to let them hang out to dry? I couldn’t dream up a bigger coward if I tried!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Taking a breath, Gintoki unclenched his fists.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>I know you don’t care, but this affects me too. It affects me more than… I thought it could,” he said, stumbling for a moment, but swiftly recovering, a firm spark in his eyes as he continued, “So listen up. The theme of the day is personal responsibility, and I’m going to make it my own responsibility that you learn yours, shithead.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Having said his piece, Gintoki held out his hand and waited.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He had to wait for a long damn time, but, after a few eternities, the front foot of a tortoise gently landed in his palm. Holding on tight, he shook it.</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>When he dragged his feet out of the pachinko parlor, Gintoki once again found himself face-to-face with Soichiro, as if his losses at the slots had somehow become the perfect summoning spell for the Shinsengumi’s number one sadist.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The kid looked at him appraisingly then nodded.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Now this seems more natural,” he said. “Since you’re back to being dirt poor, gambling away your pocket change suits you much better.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>So the word had gotten out about Gintoki’s demotion from CEO of All-Purpose Mayo back to good ol’ Yorozuya President – if you could even call that a demotion. President was a pretty fancy word. Although, he hadn’t thought his change in position had made it to the society pages yet. Maybe this brat had just taken a look at him and somehow read his eyes like tea leaves. Or maybe some other kind of proof had emerged in the Shinsengumi vicinity – a very physical, human form of proof…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He would have to wait and see.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>It’s better than spending my hard-earned money paying for your government perks,” Gintoki countered, decidedly playing it cool.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes,” Soichiro agreed sadly. “You really did stop handing out benefits. It’s rather unfortunate.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>How insulting. How dare anyone assume he had ever been handing out benefits in the first place?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Are you sure you aren’t mistaking me for the other super-powered protagonist with fluffy white hair who would be far more likely to throw gifts around: Dragon Santa Tiger Claus?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>As someone who has closely followed both Tiger Claus’s underground wrestling career and your above-ground arrest record, I would never be so foolish as to confuse the two of you,” Soichiro asserted.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Then what? What could Soichiro have possibly been getting from Gintoki these days?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oi, Sougo!” A sharp, authoritative voice shoved its way into their conversation. “Stop idling around and get back to work. You just took a break a half hour ago.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Something deep in his gut seemed to tighten and come loose at the same time. It was like suddenly tasting mountain spring water after months in the desert with only shitty cactus juice to suck down. Reflexively, Gintoki swallowed, and the motion did not go by unnoticed.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>While I can’t say I’m happy about it,” Soichiro said, “it’s not like I don’t know why you did it.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He could stand around and argue. He could shrug and deny, but Gintoki didn’t see the point. There were other things to do.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He patted Soichiro gamely on the arm as he walked by.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You heard the man,” he said, ignoring the feeling of a sharp set of eyes slicing into his shoulder blades. “Get that nose back to the grindstone and out of my business.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Past Soichiro, a dozen meters down the street, was the owner of the voice. Standing tall and obnoxiously proud, decked out in full Shinsengumi regalia regardless of the sweltering midday sun, this guy was as dry as the desert Gintoki had just emerged from. There wasn’t a single bead of sweat on his forehead, no darker spots around the underarms of his dark jacket, no glistening sheen on his upper lip. Nothing.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yorozuya,” Hijikata said, his eyes dilated and dialed up to their standard intensity. “Don’t distract my men from their duties. We’re not all in the position where we can stand to waste our day.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yeah, some of us are too occupied telling other people what to do to even have space for a hobby,” Gintoki challenged, sliding into their classic dynamic as easily and thoughtlessly as he slipped on his boots in the morning. “Just think, you could have been putting ships in bottles all this time if you hadn’t been so busy being a hardass.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Shut it,” came the refreshingly acidic response. “You wouldn’t understand hard work if it smashed a bottle over your head. Plus, I have hobbies. I have plenty of hobbies.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>With his proclamation, Hijikata huffed and widened his stance as if in the hopes that strengthening his physical foundation could stop his weak claims from crumbling. He was definitely defensive, and Gintoki’s growing smile seemed to only make him more so. The solution here would be for the idiot to stop making weak claims, but no one would ever hear Gintoki suggest it. Where was the fun in that?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Instead, he </span>
  <span>
    <span>goaded,</span>
  </span>
  <span> “Name just one hobby of yours that has nothing to do with the Shinsengumi. I double-dog dare you.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>There were a few Gintoki could list off the top of his head like obsessing over trashy action movie franchises, eating trashy food, or spewing trashy opinions, but he doubted the guy would admit to any of his trash no matter how obviously it was stinking up the place. No, he would certainly make up a fake, overly-classy lie that Soichiro would easily present him the chance to poke holes in at a later date.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>True to form, Hijikata snapped open his mouth to immediately respond with some bullshit, but then closed it with far more conscious thought. He looked at Gintoki for a moment as if considering something, lips thinning as the spikes in his personality seemed to soften a bit.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Taking his gaze skyward, Hijikata murmured, “There’s one that’s more of a bad habit than a hobby.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki was man enough to admit he really wasn’t sure where things were going at this point, but he did know one thing: if Hijikata said smoking, he was going to kick him.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Sometimes I kill time pointlessly putting up with you,” Hijikata said with an open expression that couldn’t be classified as a smile by anyone who knew the term, but was definitely more than neutral.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It wasn’t exactly obvious when you looked at him, but Gintoki got the feeling he was in considerably good spirits. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That something deep in his gut grew degrees tighter and looser and warmer. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Well, we all can see that you’ve appropriately spent your time today telling a lot of poor civilians and drones in uniform to do a lot of things. We are all very impressed,” he said. “You’ve done more than enough to indulge in your hobby here for a bit.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Flicking his lighter and pushing the small flame upward to meet a new cigarette, Hijikata seemed to consider the offer.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>If I’d done enough, I would be getting a reward, not a punishment,” he said finally.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Time spent with me is one of the most rewarding things out there. Gin-san is the archetype of kindness,” Gintoki said, kindly grasping his wooden sword.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Your words and actions aren’t matching up,” Hijikata exclaimed, bending backward to avoid a swift downward swipe. “A kind person doesn’t go around attacking people!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Now that his Tenseiga had reverted back to an average carrot and his Tessaiga had resumed its natural form as an everyday stick, they were much more gratifying to use. He could swing his words and his sword kindly or roughly and they would graze against something far more human than a sinkhole full of gurgling mayo. There was a person who reacted and retaliated and… Suddenly, Gintoki had to hold himself back from whaling away like he was beating up a piñata on his birthday.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He vaguely wondered if he had a problem.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Leaping on his moment of hesitation, Hijikata snatched Lake Touya out of his hands, and Gintoki didn’t do much to hold onto it as it went.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>See how kind I am?” he said. “I let you grab my sword.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Sell your bullshit somewhere else,” Hijikata replied roughly, but stepped forward in a way that could be considered nothing short of respectful as he threaded the sword back within Gintoki’s belt, adding, “Although, I recently got something in the mail from someone who claims you are rather caring, deep down.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Was Zura putting him in Joui recruitment pamphlets again? Gintoki had already told him countless times that there was no way he was doing an unpaid testimonial!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You can’t trust the things that other people say I’ve said or done,” he said. “That would make you no better than the person who genuinely believes the graffiti they read on bathroom stalls about distant acquaintances.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata snorted at this and reached down to fumble around in his pants’ pocket. Just like he’d done in the second scene of the story, he handed Gintoki another crusty piece of paper from his wallet.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>My source is far more legitimate than bathroom scrawl.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Unfolding it stickily, Gintoki was faced with a page-long letter that started with the very same phrase as the last one he had been accosted with. He read a little further, and discovered it was a letter given to anyone who had been stupid enough to buy more than 10,000 bottles of slime from All-Purpose Mayo.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Immediately crumpling the paper into a ball, he drew his arm back and called upon every muscle his body had built through peace, war, and walking Sadaharu. With a gruffly yelled, “FORM LETTER SPARKING,” he threw the paper down the street. It became a speck on the horizon in the blink of an eye.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>WHAT THE HELL ARE YOU DOING? THAT WAS ONE OF MY MOST IMPORTANT POSSESSIONS!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>STOP PLACING IMPORTANCE ON FORM LETTERS!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>IF YOU HAD TAKEN THE TIME TO READ IT, YOU WOULD KNOW IT WASN’T A GODDAMN FORM LETTER!”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>On the contrary,” Gintoki choked out, shoving a fist into Hijikata’s back from his position trapped in an ironclad headlock, “I read enough to know that was exactly what it was.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No, you didn’t,” Hijikata insisted. “It was personal enough that it woke me up.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki swiveled his head, caged as it was in one of Hijikata’s arms, and looked up at a harshly dry chin free of both mayo stains and mercy.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What the hell are you talking about?”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>When I say it woke me up, it woke me up,” he repeated stubbornly. “All of a sudden, I was sitting there in my room looking at that piece of paper. Two whole months passed before that moment that I can’t remember anything about.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh,” Gintoki let out a sigh that grazed across Hijikata’s arm hairs. “Well, that’s definitely for the best.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>While his top preference would have been wiping the existence of the horrifically fluid Mayokata from his own memory, having it gone from the man himself was the next best thing. Eventually Gintoki would hopefully sustain enough head injuries to follow suit. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Why does everyone keep saying that?” Hijikata snapped, reflexively tightening his grip on Gintoki’s head </span><span><span>in a way that had him </span></span><span>worrying about his brain being squeezed out of his ears like old toothpaste. “Everyone I talk to about this says exactly that!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Pinching Hijikata roughly on his underarm and slithering out of his grasp, Gintoki brushed himself off, cracking his neck.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Maybe when everybody tells you the same thing, you should try and listen,” he suggested.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Seemingly irritated to be met with sound advice, Hijikata grunted and took another drag of his cigarette.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>There’s no way for me to listen when the world as a whole suddenly decides I’m better off not hearing about it,” he said, which was a fair point, but Gintoki was no believer in playing fair.</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Trust me, we’re not avoiding the subject for the sake of your maiden purity or whatever. This is about being relieved that the monster is dead and refusing to relive the experience.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Hijikata narrowed his eyes. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yeah,” he said, “I bet you of all people are more than ready to put the past behind you.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki was generally up for that choice in most cases, whether it came to terrible wars or undeserved losses at the slots.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Are you trying to passively-aggressively hint that you found out about how I threw away the scrapbook your gorilla gave me of all the times the Shinsengumi and Yorozuya worked together to conquer a plot arc? You and I both know he was just doing that to lobby for a top spot in the next clip show episode.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>I’m talking about the company you nearly ruined, asshole! The best company in the world, APM, is trillions in the red because of your shitty decisions!”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Ah, yes. That. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>So it turned out that once customers got over the novelty of a mayo store selling sweets, they returned to buying their candies at candy stores and their cakes at patisseries. Apparently people most often went to the genre specialists when they wanted their guilty pleasures done right, which kicked All-Purpose right out of the high-stakes sugar game. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That left the company with its own specialty, which it didn’t really make anymore. When people found out they couldn’t even buy much mayo at the mayo store either… everyone stopped buying pretty much everything at All-Purpose Mayo.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>It was a rather good time to get the boot from the place, all things considered. Gintoki was much better at creating messes than he was at cleaning them up. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You can’t begrudge me a learning experience,” he said. “I learned that no one can work enough miracles to change a shit company into something worthwhile.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“Funny, I could say the same thing about useless, permy samurai,” Hijikata said, eyes shining with mirth and perhaps a little something else. “Just be grateful it looks like APM will recover now that it’s rid of you or we would be having a very different conversation.”</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki doubted they would be having a conversation at all. Instead, Hijikata would be talking to whatever judge had him on trial for manslaughter.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Yes, congratulations,” he exclaimed, monotone. “Your giant store of disgusting condiments will continue to provide you with your disgusting condiments.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Not all of them,” Hijikata replied, giving Gintoki a significant look. “They’re scrapping everything you brought to the table, which includes Mayo Deluxe.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>
    <span>So h</span>
  </span>
  <span>ere was yet another catastrophe for which the blame rested solely on the shoulders of the well-meaning, kindhearted protagonist. The gallant hero who could do no right. Just when Gintoki was starting to think there weren’t enough stones left in the world for all his critics to throw, someone had to go and mine an asteroid to add some first-class platinum pain to the pile.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>When would everyone be satisfied? Was he supposed to go on TV again and make another teary-eyed apology? The last one went over so well!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Since I can’t get it in stores, you’ll just have to make some for me instead,” Hijikata continued.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Climbing halfway out of his mental spiral of spiky irritation, Gintoki snorted.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>What’s that? You think I’ll transform my own kitchen into a mayo production line just for you?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Without missing a beat, Hijikata said, “Yes.”</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>That response wasn’t solely based on an aggressive need to be right, which was par for the course for this guy. No, the single word he uttered was full of what rarely came to back up that aggressive need to be right: assured confidence.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>What sort of dirt did he have?</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>If there’s some strange law that says you can arrest me for being mean to the mayo industry or whatever, just go ahead and take out the cuffs. You’re not going to force me into making your goop.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>No one’s forcing you into anything. I’m not going to make you make the best mayonnaise, but you’re going to do it anyway.”</span></p>
<p class="western">“<span>Oh, am I?” Gintoki asked, doing his best to hide his strange and precipitously growing feeling of discomfort. “How do you figure that, shithead?”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Flinging his cigarette into a nearby trashcan, Hijikata looked out into the street, the not-quite-smile reappearing on his lips.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>You’re going to make some Mayo Deluxe alongside a good, hearty meal. Once you’re done, I’ll come by with a quality bottle of sake and enough eclairs for you, glasses, and China, which you’ll take as an opportunity to invite me in so we can eat everything together,” he said, turning back to face Gintoki. “And you’ll do all of it just because you want to.”</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki tried to swallow, but his mouth had no fluids to work with. Was he suddenly turning into the opposite of whatever Mayokata had been? </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>He desperately tried to grab onto his carrot and stick. In his mind’s eye, he slid out a broken, spindly twig and half a mushy, over-boiled carrot. What had happened? He had just used them both with great success so recently! Was there any way he could change them back into the mythical Tessaiga and Tenseiga? He really needed their power right about now, oi!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As it stood, there was no way he could defend himself against… against…</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>What was it that Hijikata was holding? There was something in his hand… through the cracks in his curled fingers, a bright light was leaking out. A really brilliantly bright light. A blinding light.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Augh!” Gintoki exclaimed and covered his face with his arm.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The overflowing intensity of the light felt like a physical, burning force against his skin. He dug his heels into the dirt as his clothes whipped around him, buffeted this way and that in a cyclone of pure energy. Just standing in place was going to have his whole being completely eroded away in a matter of seconds. He had to do something!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Bracing himself, Gintoki cautiously lowered his arm. Squinting recklessly into the center of the sun, he saw...</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Impossible. It couldn’t be! NO!</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Am I wrong?” Hijikata asked calmly.</span></p>
<p class="western">
  <span>There in his fist was the Shikon no Tama. The sacred Jewel of the Four Souls, always ready to grant its user’s ultimate wish with its unrivaled power! How could Gintoki have been such an idiot as to throw away his best weapons when this guy had such an ace up his sleeve! There was no way he could win this! </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Gintoki looked down to see the ashes of what used to be a twig and the liquid goop of what used to be a carrot. He turned his hands sideways, letting the dust and puree fall to slop at his boots. </span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>After a long, fateful pause, he opened his mouth.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">“<span>Does tomorrow work for you?” he asked.<br/>
</span></p>
<p class="western"> </p><hr/>
<p class="western"> </p>
<p class="western">
  <span>A gentle breeze picks up in Kabukicho. As it pushes at the brims of hats and brushes the hems of kimonos, the wind finds a small, balled-up piece of paper. It blows the paper down the dusty street, passing it under the wheels of a speeding scooter driven by a cheerful delivery girl in a bright yellow uniform; it rolls it up a slanted rock, the crumpled paper becoming airborne as it slips between a pair of potted fire lilies and over the sharp horns of the beast carrying them, brushing a flower on his head as it flies by; the wind then tumbles it into a clandestine meeting of Joui rebels led by an elegant, mercurial, and long-haired samurai, who becomes just distracted enough by the paper to lose his train of thought, but not distracted enough to successfully catch it as it rolls past him, which derails the meeting as everyone makes fun of his poor reflexes for the next half hour. The balled-up piece of paper nearly ends up rolling through the whole of the city until it careens toward a riverbank and lands in the water.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>The crumpled paper stays afloat for only a minute before sinking below the surface, gently and gradually torn apart by the current. Hijikata seems fated to be the only person to read its full contents.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>...Unless. Unless you would like to read it too.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>However, this is a letter our protagonist outright expressed that he did not care to read, and it contains a story that, from the very beginning, our protagonist admitted he did not want to know anything about. It would be indelicate to provide you a perspective so against the interests of our point-of-view character.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>Perhaps if it is tucked away in the following Notes section, separate from the main story, we could consider this to be a carefully segmented exception.</span>
</p>
<p class="western">
  <span>As long as you keep the contents a secret, of course. It will be your secret and Hijikata’s – alongside a few dozen other people, because, as Gintoki so clearly indicated, the letter is obviously not the only one of its kind. You can see it is addressed –</span>
</p>
<p class="western"> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <em>
    <br/>
    <a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vmo6SsHDN8U">To Whom It May Concern:</a>
    <br/>
  </em>
</p>
<p>  <em>As one of our most loyal customers, registered as having purchased more than 10,000 bottles of our mayo product, I know you receive the occasional letter from APM, but this is the first letter you are receiving from me, the company’s new CEO.</em></p>
<p>  <em>You should have received your first letter from me much earlier, but I chose to abandon my duties at a pivotal time. I was not there when you needed my leadership, and for that I can only offer my sincere apologies, and an explanation.</em></p>
<p>  <em>I was given to the founder of this company eighty-seven years ago, when he and I were both simple youth of our species. Together, we grew to watch Edo grow around us, and we further grew to become a part of the city’s lifeblood.</em></p>
<p>  <em>I am sure you have heard the stories. The one about that hostage situation we resolved with mayonnaise, and the other time we crafted a mayo dish that ended a centuries-long feud between two noble families, and also the one about the tuna fish sandwich.  </em></p>
<p>  <em>You know the stories, but you must understand that these stories were also my life for almost a century. I was there for all of them. Even when I was hibernating, our founder would keep me in a fridge in his office, and when I finally awoke, the stories people told of what he had done always closely matched what I could remember of the dreams I had during that time.</em></p>
<p> <em>Everything I became, I became with him.</em></p>
<p> <em>When it was clear that he was nearing his end, he asked me to continue to build this company in his stead. I know that a loyal APM follower such as yourself would have accepted his request as an honor and a privilege, but not me. I could not. He was asking me to continue without him, and I found that to be unacceptable. I had lived in a world that was solely his for decades, and he had the gall to request that, once he was gone, would I be so kind as to remain in the ashes?</em></p>
<p> <em>I simply could not.</em></p>
<p> <em>Instead, I was determined to find a life outside of the pain every one of my memories now summoned. I was determined to escape, regardless of what paths of self-destruction and humiliation I needed to tread in the process. It would be foolish of me to assume you have not seen the publicized versions of the things I did next, and they do not bear repeating here.</em></p>
<p> <em>In my absence, someone else was chosen to lead APM. As our loyal consumer, you are surely aware of the terrible consequences that followed. This new CEO removed our best products, ignored the voices of our supporters, and made company decisions in pursuit of his selfish interests rather than as a careful, thoughtful leader. </em></p>
<p> <em>However, while he showed himself to have many terrible qualities, he also proved himself to have the best characteristic a person in charge can possibly have: he cared. He cared about you.</em></p>
<p> <em>When it was clear his leadership was bringing the company to ruin, he came to find me. He forced me to face the reality of my choice: either step up to run APM, or watch it be destroyed. He would not have done this if he did not place you, the consumer, above everything else – just as I do.</em></p>
<p> <em>Both him and I have come to learn that we cannot let any world be ruled by one man. Even in the best of times, it creates a balance that is too fragile, and situations become far too destructive when circumstances inevitably go awry.</em></p>
<p> <em>To assist with our now sky-high debts and to prevent mayo catastrophes of this level from ever happening again, All-Purpose Mayo will be selling some of its production facilities to neighboring companies, letting others into the mayo game. With more producers in town, you will no longer have to solely depend on us, but APM will still be here at the center of it all. The memory of our founder, and his insistence on quality mayonnaise will live on in me. Slowly but surely, I will win the race to dig APM out of this hole before the debt collectors come to take all of our things.</em></p>
<p> <em>There is nothing I can do but get started, and there is nothing I have left but my love for you and all that you represent every time you enjoy the taste of mayonnaise from my store – the store of my dear, departed friend.</em></p>
<p><em>In moderated passion and consistent service,</em><br/>Ryuunosuke Carlson</p></blockquote></div></div>
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